Daddy Joon, Come Plant Flowers With Me.

I’m rather ill but nothing makes me feel better than writing for you Joonjoons…maybe Vitamin C packets, but thats OK.

Who else is fcking STOKED for NO-ROOZ? New Year? NOWROUZ? however you spell it…ITS COMING, HOLLER! It’s PAY-DAY, bitches, and I’m going shopping (OBVI ADDICTED). Spring Cleaning, Son-bols (Hyacinths), and a dish of weed that I explain to my white friends as magical grass. I love this time of year.

But that’s not what this post is about. Sorry.

Remember all the posts I wrote about my parents, and how they kind-of tortured my existence? Well, there’s definitely more to explore there, but I want to tell you about the phase after the teenage rebel/IwanttoRUNAWAY chapter. I know some of you reading are living at home, and cant wait to MOVE OUT. Don’t worry, I know the routine (some may apply more to guys and/or girls)

You know you’re persian and live at home when…

your mom wakes you up in the morning insisting you should eat like a COW for breakfast.

your dad pesters you with ‘you are a disappointment’ lectures.

your mom continues to overfeed you and your friends, putting the Freshman 15 to shame.

Your dad still wants to negotiate a curfew with you.

If you asked, your mom would make your bed for you.

If you asked, your dad would take your car for an oil change.

And finally, your parents persistently ask you to attend mehmoonis with them, as if anybody your age really goes to those things.

Yeah, I’ve been there, I might be there again, and living with persian parents sometimes feels like extreme claustrophobia. Your mom never is really listening to you, because she will continue to stuff crap down your throat. And you dad will always call you spoiled because he’s perpetually jealous that your mom fawns over you way more.

Never would happen in a Persian Household.

But let me tell you what happens to Mommy and Daddy Joon after you leave their suffocating chokehold.

They really don’t know what to do with themselves

and its actually very sad and funny at the same time. I don’t know about your parents, Joonies, but my parents don’t know what the eff a hobby is. To them, raising their kids was their number one priority, and work came second; and those two pretty much took up all their time.

My mom took 10 years to finish her undergrad degree because she wanted to raise me herself, and avoid dropping me off at a daycare with some mean nuns. (She ended up getting her PhD, wooot go mom!) But my point is, part time studying&working/part time parenting left my parents with no time to establish a ‘cultivated second life’. Weekends were filled with driving the kids to sports games, SAT classes, piano, etc and the weeks were work-dinnermaking-work-dealing with my TEENAGE rebellious issues.

By the time I got to an age where my parents didn’t have to do any of these things for me, my parents had come to a point that they don’t really know what else to do.

So they’ve practically gone insane:

My Dad is a typical Persian Dad, but growing up, he was probably more serious and strict than most. I was scared of him until I was 18, then I realized the law was on my side. He’s not one of those softie Daddy Joons. He means business most of the time, and when he laughs its because he’s watching a Steve Martin movie.

One weekend at home recently, I was enjoying the perks of my comfortable couches/trashy reality TV/ and leftover fessenjoon- when I hear my Dad yelling out my name. I reluctantly tear myself away from the couch to see what’s up.

“What’s up dad?”

“Look at dis App I found on the iPhone! Its called ‘TALKING TOM CAT’. Eets so Funny!”

“OK, Dad, thats cool…I’m missing my show.”

“Nono, Daddy Joon, you have to try dis- come talk to it in Farsi!”

If any of you are unfamiliar, ‘Talking Tom Cat’ is an iPhone app where “Tom is your pet cat, that responds to your touch and repeats everything you say with a funny voice”.

Chi Gofti? (What’d you say?)

My dad now spends hours talking to the Tom in Farsi, in different accents, and laughing- a lot.

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Another time, I was also watching Trashy Reality TV from my designated spot on the couch (I really am like a Persian Cat, I just lounge in the same spot). My dad walks in with a few pots and gardening tools- dressed in Plaid, jeans, and a Yankees baseball hat.

“You are so tanbal (lazy), what have you done all day?”

“Dad, its my day off, can you stop.”

My dad disappears into the backyard. After awhile, I look over to see him reading a book…”The Complete Garden Flower Book”, while theres a pile of dug up dirt and a shovel on the ground. I was very amused, because the last book my dad read was about MATLAB. Not much later, my dad slides the backdoor open,

“Daddy Joon, want to come plant flowers with me?”

“No.”

“You’re missing out DOOD.” and he goes back to gardening. (Yes, my dad says dude now, and LEGIT- and BRO)

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My mother is also your typical Persian Mother. She takes meal requests specifically from me when I come home, and insists on doing my laundry.

But now, with no laundry and less meals to cook, she’s joined a BOOK CLUB.

My initial thought: A BOOK CLUB? Does she think she’s a WASP?

none of them are my mother.

And these are books in English– fiction, non-fiction, she’s even asked to borrow some of my novels. I’m really happy for her newfound appreciation of literature, but I will be freaked out if she asks for my edition of Harry Potter. There’s some territory that shouldn’t be tread on.

And on top of that, her last ‘project’ was to watch ALL the movies nominated for Oscars. And she was very zealous about it. To the point that she would reschedule everything because she was going to see so-and-so movie. She even dragged my dad to a few (movie dates?), and a few she cried to alone.

Oscar night at my house, was like Bingo Night at the senior home.

My mom had a piece of paper filled with her predictions for every category, and would yell/rejoice when she lost/won. She went apeshit when The Artist won Best Picture, because

“Oh my god, it vaz soo Amazing. I knew when i saw it in de seenama (cinema) that dees was de one.”

Book Club, Gardening, SuDoku, whatever my parents move onto next it just makes me realize what an empty pot they’re trying to fill. All those times I screamed about wanting to move out, I realize part of their issue with it was their own fear of–

well if the kids are gone, what do we do?

At the end of the day, I’m happy my parents are learning to lessen their attachment through random-ass activities. And if they’re having fun, then more power to them!

And maybe, MAYBE, I’ll plant flowers one day. For now, daddy joon, can do that on his own. Any good Parents&Boredom Stories? Share share share.

Comments

Feel better, dear. I nearly died laughing at the part about how your dad means business and laughter means he’s watching Steve Martin. Sounds like my dad, for reals! Hey, maybe your mom got the book club idea from “Reading Lolita in Tehran”?

Saaghi Joon, I totally understand. I moved to Iran when I got married (waiting for my husband to get his green card/finish the army) and my parents nearly died. Ok, they didn’t die but they were so bored without me. I’m an only child and they had their hands filled with me. But they did redo the house while I was gone and apparently the house was EXTRA clean, like it was khooneh takooni all the time. Oh, and now that they tasted life without me, they never want my husband and I to move out. Ever. Babam overheard my husband and I talking about saving money and moving out when we finish school. He was so heartbroken. Offended. Appalled. I told he we were going to move out eventually and he said, “Vel, eef you don’t vant to leeve here you can move out now.” I was like, Chill dad! Then I had to tell him we just didn’t want to burden them but we would actually LOVE to stay here forever.

We can get a bigger house, he says, so there will be more room for all the grandkids. Uh, who said anything about Grand Kids?!

I’m really glad you wrote about moving away from your Persian parents! My parents are incapable of letting go! My my mom calls me at least 6 times a day to nag me/tell me random tid bits about her cats and my dad randomly shows up at my house claiming to have called me a million times without and answer “I vas so vorried I had to check on you!” thanks dad. Hobbies are out of the question for them, I am their hobby I’m just a long distance hobby now.